“Excuse me, Pavel Mikhailovich, I need to go powder my nose. I’ll only be a minute.” She slid up from the table. “Only you promise not to dance with anyone!” She shook her finger at the man in the manner of a regular coquette.
Pavel Mikhailovich was smiling a happy, silly smile.
The ladies’ room – a shiny one, trimmed up with genuine marble – was empty, or at least, Nina thought so. When she came up to the mirror, she did not recognize herself. The hairstyle was unthinkable by her standards, the make-up alien; the lips, eyebrows, cheeks – everything was totally not her. Nina did not recognize herself… and she liked that. The woman in the mirror was a real woman. Nothing was left of the retiring grey being that had been hiding from life in her shell, capable of nothing but work, work, work… The new Nina was not afraid of being a woman and struggling for her happiness. She was ready to open her feelings to her man. The man had already seen and appreciated her. Everything was just beginning for them…
“Worm.”
Carried away by the vortex of her thoughts, Nina did not catch it.
“Who’s there?”
She turned around. Just a few steps away from her was Marina. The reception queen was beautiful as always, but now her face was dark with hatred.
“Worm. Scum. Where did you dig yourself up from, anyway?”
“Marina, don’t…”
“Don’t ‘Marina’ me!” the other one flared up. “I’m no friend of yours. Who are you? Pathetic ugly piece of nothing! And all figged up, too…”
Nina kept silent, not knowing what to say.
“Who do you think you are?” Marina went on. “Do you imagine he needs your kind?”
That was too much. Nina took up the challenge.
“And who do you think he needs? A brainless doll like you?”
Marina screamed and flung at Nina. She reached out her hands with impeccable cherry-colored nails trying to scratch Nina’s face. But that was where she failed. Nina had a good reaction and hands that were strong from tennis, but most importantly, she had come out of her shell and was ready to fight for her love against any adversary. Nina intercepted Marina’s wrists easily. The beautiful girl’s face was distorted with fury and hatred, but even now it was exquisite. “How unfair,” Nina thought irrelevantly.
The two women were struggling. Marina was not able to either free her hands or scratch Nina.
Suddenly, Nina felt a stabbing pain – Marina kicked her hard in the shin with the sharp toe of her shoe. The pain was terrible. For a second, Nina nearly let go of Marina’s hands, but the next moment she gripped them even tighter and pushed her rival away.
Nina had not meant it to be that way, but in the scuffle, one cherry nail scratched the cheek of its owner. Marina cried out and recoiled. The scratch was not a deep one, but a tiny drop of blood showed.
“Bitch, scum! …” Marina murmured as she mopped her cheek with a handkerchief in front of the mirror. The handkerchief became spotted with red.
Nina was trembling all over. Trying to quiet down, she took out her compact and started powdering her nose; after all, that was what she had come here for.
“I’ll kill you!” Marina hissed. She had tears in her eyes.
“Don’t you work yourself up so. You didn’t have it your way this time, so what? It happens, you know.” Nina was dealing her rival final blows. “You’d better leave the bank and try your luck somewhere else… And take care of your pretty little face! It’s all you have.”
Nina put away her compact and walked away with the proud gait of a winner.
Samsonov spotted her from afar and waved at her, smiling. He had been waiting for her.
Nina homed in on his smile, not heeding anything around. Her heart was still beating at a quickened pace, but otherwise she was calm and focused. That was her big day; a lot was going to be decided until it was over.
Samsonov got up at her approach.
“I didn’t dance with anyone,” he reported like a little boy.
Nina thanked him with a worldly smile. They sat down.
Samsonov said, “Nina, I want to tell you – you are different today…”
“How so?”
“Well… I’ve never seen you like that.”
“Maybe, you’ve just never taken notice of me, Pavel Mikhailovich?” Nina asked, resuming her female offensive.
Samsonov started and protested, “No, I… As soon as I met you, I …”
He fell silent and dropped his eyes.
“Come on, speak! My darling, my sweetheart, don’t clam up,” Nina was begging him in her mind. “As soon as you met me, you – what?”
“Shall we dance?” Pavel Mikhailovich suggested awkwardly.
“You and your dances!” Nina thought. Aloud, she said, “I’d love to, Pavel Mikhailovich,” and held out her hand to him with a smile.
But at that moment the music stopped. The presenter appeared on the stage. He showered more jokes and then announced a stupid contest – something about impersonating famous people. Nina, who was totally on the alert and ready to strike back like a tennis player on the court, did not miss the ball.
She rose. Samsonov jumped up, worried. “Where are you going?”
Nina got him seated again. “Bear with me, Pavel Mikhailovich. I’m going to be naughty. You don’t mind?”
She went up onto the stage, approached the bandmaster and said something to him. The musician nodded. Nina took the microphone and stepped out into the brightly lit center.
“Ladies and gentlemen! I don’t know if it’s at all appropriate, but I’m going to sing. I hope you’ll be indulgent.”
The presenter tried to intervene, but Nina ignored him.
The music began to play, and Nina began to sing. She was singing about time being so fleeting, the clock ticking away, while every woman’s heart was craving for love – even if it was not going to last and promised no happy ending. She was singing on behalf of all women, no matter what they happened to be in their life – shop assistants, secretaries, tram drivers or top managers of large corporations. Call me your little girl, then hold me in your arms, and then deceive me if you must… Have no regrets – simply love me, just like that…
Nina Shuvalova was no singer, neither she tried to sing – it was the woman who had woken up in her that did the singing. The woman sang that she was ready for love, expecting love, demanding love.
At first, the guests were puzzled by what was going on, then whispered and then fell silent. When Nina finished, there was a storm of applause.
Beside herself with excitement, on wooden legs, she stepped down from the stage. Pavel Mikhailovich was waiting for her on his feet. He was neither applauding nor smiling, but looking at her more intently than ever before. When she glanced up into his eyes, Nina knew that she had achieved her goal – for him, she was no longer an employee from the analytic department, but a woman, and that was how it was going to be from then on.
The applause would not die down. Pavel Mikhailovich winced with vexation.
“It’s too noisy here. Why don’t we go someplace quiet? I need to speak with you, Nina. I know a decent café not far off. Agreed?”
They moved towards the exit. Somebody came up running and shoved the plush lion into Samsonov’s hands. “Here, Pavel Mikhailovich, please, don’t leave your present behind.”
They came out into the street, to the garage exit. Samsonov was hugging the lion with one arm; at the same time, he was holding Nina’s hand firmly – as if he had found her after a long search and was afraid of losing her again.
The car already appeared below – Kolya was steering it onto the ramp.
It was a warm August evening after a hot day.
“Pavel Mikhailovich, let’s have a walk instead,” suggested Nina.
The man responded eagerly, “Great idea! I haven’t had a walk for ages.”
Samsonov took out his mobile. “Kolya, stop. Don’t drive out. Wait for us in the garage. I’ll call you later… Ah, come here a second – take this damn lion away from me.”